


When I Look at You

by Youremyalways



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Car Crash AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, If I stay, Modern AU, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 08:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: “You have to pull through this, okay?” Octavia sniffled, sliding her fingers through Clarke’s hair, “Because I’m terrified of what will happen to Bellamy if you don’t.”“And plus, you’d be like, the best sister in law ever.” She added with a watery laugh and sad smile, “If you could hear me right now you’d probably be telling me to shut up, that nothing is certain and you have no idea if Bellamy even wants marriage. And then I’d said that he loves you more than I’ve ever seen him love someone and that if it’s something you want, he’d do it.”or the modern car crash au that is SATURATED in bellarke feels. (Work will be finished by the end of the week)





	1. Snow & Concussions

**Author's Note:**

> Make no mistake, this gets real sad before it gets happy, but trust me it DOES get happy. Anyway, I put a ton of effort into this and would love it if you gave it some love <3
> 
> xoxoxo

“That snow’s really coming down now, huh?”

Bellamy stretched forward in his seat, squinting as he tried to focus on the street ahead. There was a heavy mist over the road, sheets of snow falling steadily from the sky and hindering their view. He moved his head in a swivel, looking from the icy street to the glowing headlights of the car traveling a few yards in front of them. 

“Yeah, we’re like 5 minutes away though.” Clarke mumbled, steering the car gently to stay directly in between the yellow lines, “we should get back in time for some hot chocolate and a movie.”

Bellamy looked up at Clarke then, letting his gaze slip away from the roads. Nothing sounded better to him right now than getting to stay in and cuddle with the woman next to him. Clarke looked so warm and comforting, the lights from the dashboard lighting up her face in strings of highlights. Her eyes were drawn deep in concentration on the road ahead, mouth hanging in a content smile. One hand rested on his thigh and the other on the center of the wheel’s top edge. She was wearing a form fitting black dress, and Bellamy felt heat curl in his stomach every time he saw the collar stretched down towards the right from being pulled down just mere minutes ago when Bellamy insisted on kissing up and down her neck. She matched the dress with that pair of dark, open toed heels that made Bellamy’s mouth go dry with how they accentuated her legs. Sometimes he just looked at Clarke and got lost in how lucky he was to have her. How many things went right in his life for him to get the chance to love and be loved by her. 

“Have I told you I love you?” He said as much, not able to keep the words back, nor wanting to. He leaned his head back against the headrest so he could just admire the love of his life.

Clarke laughed a little, smile lines appearing by the corners of her eyes. She reached out with the hand not bracing the steering wheel and without diverting her attention from the road, grabbed Bellamy’s in her own and gave it a loving squeeze. Bellamy smiled and pulled their entangled hands into his lap so they rested lightly on top of his thigh. 

“You may have mentioned it.” Clarke smirked, pulling over slowly to the left side of the road to make a sharp turn onto the next street the gps guided her to. 

She scanned the oncoming traffic carefully, sticking her neck out to gauge all incoming cars before beginning to make the turn onto the avenue. Bellamy felt the car turn, and squeezed Clarke’s hand back gently as he began to recognize the route home. 

But then everything shifted.

Bellamy didn’t register the pressure or the screech of tires or the screams, all he noticed was his hand slipping out of Clarke’s before suddenly the car was on it’s side. It wasn’t true what they said in the movies, it didn’t happen in slow motion. Rather, it felt like only a matter of seconds. 

He just barely saw the black chevy slam into the driver’s side door, forcing their car to travel a hundred feet sideways before their vehicle finally halted and flipped onto the drivers side, rocking unsteadily. 

Immediately Bellamy’s brain was fuzzy. It was like a million sirens were blasting in his ears and the only sound he could hear was his own ragged breath. Panic started to rise in his chest as he blinked his eyes several times in an effort to clear his vision. All he could see was crushed metal and shards of glass everywhere. The smell of gasoline hit him like a brick wall and he couldn’t help but gag. 

He needed to calm himself down. Having a panic attack wouldn’t exactly help him right now. If anything it would make everything worse. However, that may have been a mistake. Once he pushed the anxiety away, there was nothing left to distract from the overwhelming pain. 

His neck was on fire, tendrils of pain sliding all over the thick muscles covering his throat. His side of the car was up off the ground and he didn’t realize until then that he was sideways, elevated, and hanging. All the weight of his body was being held by his neck, which rested at an awkward angle against the seatbelt, keeping him from falling to the opposite side of the car. His legs were dangling against the clutch, one ankle burning hot in pain. 

But that didn’t matter, because when he turned his head to assess the damage on his leg, he also saw Clarke, who was lying brokenly against the shattered driver’s door window. There was blood everywhere and suddenly the panic returned tenfold. Her blonde hair was matted to her forehead, stained red. There were several shards of glass wedged in Clarke’s chest and stomach region, and her dress was now nothing more than strings of torn fabric loosely tied together. There was a giant gash across her forehead that was oozing blood down her cheek and puddling where her head rested against the crushed window. What worried Bellamy the most, however, was a particular shard- no, sheet- of glass that stuck out of her chest right near her heart. In the place where the glass met the skin, the length of the shard was about 4 inches wide, but Bellamy had no way of knowing how deep it went or just how close it was to vital organs.

He found himself trying to take deep breaths and calm down again. He couldn’t do anything to help himself or Clarke if he was having a panic attack. He also needed to be very careful with his movements, because one wrong move and he would drop onto Clarke, causing who knows how much more damage. 

“Clarke?” He winced at the way his voice croaked.

She didn’t move, and suddenly a new worry hit Bellamy.

“Shit.” He muttered, his heart rate picking up considerably.

Bellamy threw caution into the wind and with wide eyes, stretched his arm down to rest on Clarke’s neck. He winced as the movement put even more unwanted pressure on his neck, but proceeded nonetheless. 

There wasn’t even a hint of a pulse under his fingertips.

“Please, please, please.” He repeated over and over again as he cried. His fingers rummaged sloppily over Clarke’s neck, trying to find a sign of life. 

There was nothing.

For a second the world stopped turning. Bellamy’s chest stopping rising and falling as breath ceased to leave him. His head went spinning and he felt like he was floating. His throat was bone dry and his eyes went wider than ever before. He wanted to be dead.

But in the next moment, against all odds, there was an incredibly faint thump beneath Bellamy’s fingertips.

The life force slammed back into him as he ripped out an inhumane cry. He racked in sobs, letting the relief flood over him as he moved his frantic hand up to Clarke’s cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across the pale skin.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’ll figure this out.” He whispered, tears blurring his vision.

Bellamy took a deep breath and sent a prayer out to whatever god was out there before reaching out with his other arm to find his phone. He refused to move his left hand from where it rested on Clarke, the warmth of her skin tethering Bellamy to earth. With a rugged sigh, he slowly stretched his right arm out from his side and dug into his coat pocket. He let out a small moan when his fingers were greeted with thick, warm liquid. His brain had shut down any of his own pain, but clearly his hip was bleeding. 

“Okay, baby I’m just calling help. We’re gonna be okay.” Bellamy whimpered out loud as he gripped the metal machine from his pocket and pulled it in front of his face.

His head was starting to throb as his fingers pressed slowly over the three needed buttons. It would be faster with both hands, but Bellamy couldn’t be pried away from Clarke with a freaking crowbar right now. The few extra seconds were worth it. 

He brought the phone up to his ear once the call started, and noticed as the ringing became louder that his vision was blurring even further.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” A feminine voice inquired on the other end, suddenly sounding very distant.

“Uhm…” Bellamy lulled, head starting to dangle, “Car crash. People hurt. I don’t know how long…” as the words drew on he felt waves of exhaustion pass over him.

“Okay, sir. Can you identify your location? We’re sending a team to you now.” She replied calmly, yet urgently.

Bellamy felt his head jerk back as he tried to fight off the sleep, whispering “Danton street, I think.” 

“Okay, stay on the phone sir, can you…” Her voice was lost then and Bellamy saw spots dance across his vision before he completely blacked out. 

He woke up to the potent stench of saline and bleach. 

His eyes remained closed as he just breathed in and out, wincing at the overwhelming aroma the oxygen carried as it made his head throb even more intensely than it already was. His temples were pulsing, aching every few seconds. 

“Bellamy?” A female voice suddenly broke through his confused mind, sounding both worried and hopeful.

He furrowed his eyebrows together as he tried to focus on the voice, but his head just kept throbbing and all he could picture over and over again was that freaking black chevy smashing into-

“Bell, are you awake?” She said again, so so loud.

With the second line Bellamy identified the voice as his sister, which raised a whole series of new questions. She was in TonDC the last time he checked, and he knew he was in Arkadia. If Octavia was already here, he must have been unconscious for a while. 

Bellamy slowly opened his eyes, flinching back against the pillow when the light was too much all at once.

“Lights.” He winced, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as the pounding in his head grew more intense.

He heard a rush of footsteps and a relieved sigh before suddenly the lights in the room were off and Bellamy could open his eyes fully. Immediately it connected that he was in a hospital room. If the smell didn’t confirm it, than the fact that everything was completely white did. He drew in a rough breath and shifted just his eyes to look at his sister. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked with a sniffle.

Bellamy blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from his irises, and once they were workable, he noticed the tears trailing down her tan cheeks. She looked so full of dread and at the same time, intense relief. There was an unreadable aspect to her expression, and Bellamy started immediately panicking.

The last time he’d seen that look was when their mother was the one in the hospital bed. 

He instantly started scanning his own body, trying to figure out what was wrong. His legs were fine, mobile. His left ankle was in some type of brace, but as far as he could tell it was minor. His chest rose and fell easily, so his ribs and lungs must be okay, both arms too. His hip was numb and his back was sore, but neither were particularly painful. His neck and head were both agonizing, however. But he was awake, and didn’t feel sick or anything. He could still move his neck, even though it was sore and the throbbing in his head faded a little with the lights off. He let out a relieved sigh as he realized there didn’t appear to be anything life threatening, but then he froze and the heart monitor next to him skyrocketed. 

If he was okay, then the only reason O would make that face was if… 

Suddenly Bellamy was thrown back into that car, looking at Clarke, lying on the ground, bleeding and just barely breathing. Oh god. 

“Clarke?” He spoke quietly, voice dry and weak.

Dread filled Bellamy’s gut as his sister turned to make eye contact with him, lowering herself to sit in a chair directly next to his bed. She looked down at her palms before reaching out and rubbing Bellamy's hands between hers, holding and massaging them gently as she began to speak carefully.

“They can’t tell me much. The last I heard she’s alive,” She stated first, and while that eliminated his biggest fear, Bellamy knew that if that was her opening line the whole story was probably the opposite of good, “Her injuries were pretty serious, so they took her straight to emergency surgery, about…” she glanced down at her watch, “11 hours ago. Abby and Kane left DC a few hours after me, so they should be here any minute and then we can get more information.” 

Bellamy felt his stomach drop to the floor. Emergency surgery? That was bad, really really bad. Especially for 11 freaking hours. How was that even possible? How badly injured would someone have to be to warrant 11 hours of surgery? 

Clarke just felt so distant right now. Bellamy wanted to see her. He needed to guarantee that she was alive. Until then, he was in limbo.

“11 hours? How long have we been here?” Bellamy asked, voice shaking.

“Around the same amount of time. They took Clarke in right away. I think something happened in the ambulance, but… I can’t know for sure until her mom get here.” 

She squeezed his hand as tears began falling down Bellamy’s cheeks. 

“Clarke’s strong, you know that better than anybody. You can’t do anything to help her right now. So humor me, how are you?” Octavia pressed.

Bellamy just shook his head, reaching up to wipe the tears from under his eyes.

“I’m fine.” He spoke, unconvincingly.

“You’re lucky you never wanted to be an actor.” She smiled, but the gesture didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes.

“Seriously. I’m more worried about her than anything. I can deal with the pain, I can’t deal with…” He broke out into a sob and O squeezed his hand tight, aching to hug him but knowing she couldn’t risk injuring him further.

“It’s gonna be okay.” She soothed, running her thumb over his paling knuckles, careful not to jostle the IV buried in his arm.

Her voice shook, and if Bellamy had the energy, he would try to comfort her back. 

But right now his brain was on one thing. 

One thing and one thing only. 

The second time Bellamy woke up it was 16 hours after the crash, and it wasn’t just his sister’s voice anymore. 

He slowly squinted his eyes open as the blanket of two women talking softly to each other in hushed voices fell over his ears. The lights were still very dim, which he greatly appreciated as this time his head didn’t hurt nearly as bad when his eyes opened. Bellamy scanned the room once his eyes were fully opened and saw Octavia in the same chair she was in when he fell asleep the last time, but now there was another chair pulled up next to her. Clarke’s mom was sitting there, her eyes hung low and dreadful and her hair in messy, unattended curls. The worry painted across her face made her look ten years older than she really was. The tear stains across her light cheeks made Bellamy’s heart sink.

“Abby?” 

“Oh you’re awake!” The woman exclaimed as she jumped slightly, quickly reaching out with a hand and placing is on Bellamy’s thigh, giving it a loving squeeze.

The smile on her face was surface level at best, and Bellamy could tell the instant she dropped the worry from her face and replaced it with the joyous facade. It was weak and feeble, and Bellamy knew that she was trying to mask an entire world of hurt for his sake. He appreciated it, but simultaneously wished to God that everyone would stop pretending like everything’s okay. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” She swallowed, voice rough and crackling.

He looked to Octavia then and saw she was asking the same question with her eyes, which were wide and pleading. 

Why did they care so much about him? Were they trying to distract themselves? He was fine. Perfectly fine. All he cared about was Clarke. She should be all of their main focus, she was definitely Bellamy’s. 

Oh god, Clarke…

He remembered then that O said she was in surgery, and that must have been hours ago.

“Bellamy?” Octavia suddenly prodded him out of his thoughts, making Bellamy drop back down to reality.

“I’m okay,” He mumbled, feeling the tears gather in his eyes as he turned to Abby and announced with a shaking voice, “You know what I’m gonna ask.” 

Bellamy saw the instantaneous drop of smiles from both women’s faces, their facades falling to the ground side by side in a matter of seconds. Abby turned her head away and sniffled, tilting her head up to the sky so tears didn’t run down her cheeks as she opened her mouth, turned back to Bellamy, and let out a deep breath. 

“Clarke’s in the ICU. She’ll be allowed visitors in a few hours, but they won’t let more than one person in at a time.” 

“What happened? How… how is she?” Bellamy stuttered, voice clogging with emotions that made his tone come across both deeper and rougher than normal.

Abby broke eye contact with him, dropping her gaze to her lap as she began with a worn out sigh, “Two of her ribs are broken and her right lung punctured. There was damage to her organs from glass, internal bleeding. That’s what they took her into surgery for. It was over 800 stitches in her head, chest, and arm. That’s why it took so long. They… they’re weary of her chest and how or if her organs will be able to function normally.” 

800 stitches.

Bellamy felt sick, downright on his deathbed.

“Bell,” Octavia reached out to grip his forearm, “Clarke’s liver was pretty… it was severely punctured. It’ll… it’ll take time before they can be sure she’ll survive. She’s on intensive watch, but that type of injury is… very serious.” 

Bellamy turned away from the women as he tried to collect himself and stop the tears that were pouring steadily down his face. His head was booming now and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because of the concussion. Life without Clarke was unimaginable. Not just his life, but life itself. She affected so many people and brightened the lives of so many more. She was way too young to even have people considering her death. 

Bellamy found himself choking for air soon enough, vision completely blurry and stomach tight and pulsing.

“Bellamy! Bellamy, you’re having a panic attack! Bellamy!” The rushed and fearful words of Octavia brought him back down to earth and he was shocked back to reality by the feeling of her hands on either one of his shoulders.

“Are you okay? Should I call a nurse?” Abby stood up with a look of worry on her face.

Bellamy aggressively shook his head in a negative gesture, not wanting anymore people in the room to overcrowd him or tell him any more bad news. He just wanted Clarke. He just wanted to feel her so he could prove that she was still alive, still there. So that’s exactly what he said.

“I want to see her.”

“I figured.” Her mother smiled sympathetically, “But you’re still on concussion protocol. You’re not gonna be walking around for at least another 24 hours, and Clarke’s in the ICU. I’m sorry honey, but it’s going to be a little while before you can see her.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she hasn’t woken up yet,” Octavia jumped in, “So you’re not missing out on too much.” 

Bellamy leaned backwards, tucking his head as far as it could go back into the pillows. He closed his eyes slowly and drew in a deep breath, making a conscious effort to count the seconds that went by as he exhaled. 

“Does your head hurt?” Abby suddenly asked, and Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows a little at the sudden shift in conversation topics.

He opened his eyes back up again and looked at her with careful eyes, the worry lines etched into her face making him decide at the last second not to lie, “A little, I guess.”

There was a dull thudding behind the expanse of his forehead, pulses centered behind each of his eyebrows. He hadn’t even really noticed it until now. It was hard to think about a simple concussion when Clarke was getting 800 stitches.

He watched as Abby’s gaze flicked to meet Octavia’s, and confusedly witnessed what seemed like a silent conversation passing between the two women. After a few seconds, O stood up and reached out to softly pat Bellamy’s hand.

“I’m gonna see if I can get you some pain meds.” She announced with a tight smile. 

He nodded instinctually as she exited the room, curiosity peaking within him. 

He turned to Abby just as she opened her mouth to speak, his eyes catching hers, which were starting to fog over with water. For some reason the sight of her on the edge of a breakdown made something within him shatter. Abby was one of the strongest people he knew, a trait her daughter inherited, and she never, ever showed emotions. She was calculated and pragmatic- a real doctor at heart with statistics in the forefront and human emotions on the back burner. It was bizarre and gut wrenching to see the tears welling in her eyes now. 

“I want to thank you, Bellamy. For always being there for Clarke.” She whispered, her lower lip quivering as her eyes scanned over his face.

He felt a lump travel up his esophagus and lodge itself in his throat, tears starting to brim in his own eyes to mirror Abby’s. 

“She’s always there for me.” He choked out, letting out a deep, audible breath and blinking away the tears. 

Abby nodded like it’s what she expected him to say before pressing on, now with tears streaming down her face, “You were good for her. You helped her even when I couldn’t. I’m so lucky she had someone like you watching out for her.” 

Bellamy didn’t like that at all. That past tense thing. She was talking about Clarke like she was already dead, and that made the depression and heartbreak within him boil over into a newfound anger.

“She’s still here, Abby.” He spat through gritted teeth, his voice still shaking despite how hard he tried to keep it steady. 

The older Griffin looked slightly taken aback, her back slouching down slightly and eyebrows tilting upwards. Her lips fell into an uneasy frown, the corners of her mouth pinned down. At first he was expecting rebuttal, or some sort of short witted jab aimed at putting him in his place. He was expecting it.

But then she crumpled.

“I know,” came out as a whimper, “I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what I’m going to do if…” 

She started hiccuping and Bellamy intuitively reached out to grab her hand, sliding his thumb over her knuckles and squeezing her palm in comfort. 

“She’s all I have left.” Abby sobbed, leaning down and pressing her forehead against their joined hands. 

He bit down on his lip, voice unsteady as he whispered, “That’s not true. You have Kane now. And no matter what happens in the next few days, you, me, and O will always be family. That’s what Clarke would want.” 

Abby lifted her head and eyed Bellamy slowly, a single tear falling down her pale cheek, “You’re a good man, Bellamy. I’m sorry it took so long for me to see that.” 

He huffed a little as he thought back on all the dirty stares, uttered words, and cold shoulders. Clarke and him were friends for a long time before they ever dated and he remembered clearly going to her house and feeling the heat of Abby’s judgement. His family wasn’t rich like the ones she was used to associating herself with, and both him and Octavia were products of marriageless relationships. They were lower class, and Abby prejudged them because of it. That was one of the reasons Bellamy loved Clarke so much- how opposite she was from her mother in that regard. She didn’t blink an eye at things as superficial as class or wealth. 

Abby started to change her mind about a year ago, four months after Bellamy officially asked Clarke to be his girlfriend. 

Clarke was at a party in New York with a group of her old friends from high school. They were celebrating finishing college or seven years of friendship or something else along those lines. Bellamy didn’t remember for sure, but that’s besides the point. Clarke was drinking, as were her friends, and a couple of the guys (boys, really) she used to know started being creepy, giving the girls looks and touching them inappropriately. Clarke called Bellamy, who was at a conference in New Haven, and asked him what to do.

He was at the front door escorting the girls out of the party two hours later. 

“What about the conference?” Clarke had asked, hysterical.

“Screw the conference, you were in trouble.” He brushed off as he buckled her into the passenger’s seat.

Clarke told Abby about the whole thing and she invited Bellamy to dinner to thank him for helping her daughter. Since then, it’s been an upward trajectory. She even bought him a birthday present last month.

“It’s okay, no offense or anything, but I’m in it for your daughter, not you. I didn’t really care if you hated me as long as she was happy.” He whispered honestly, shrugging slightly and wincing as it juggled his head. 

Abby looked down at her hands, a subtle laugh mixed into her sigh as she spoke, “That’s exactly why I think you’re a good man.”

Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows.

“You always put her first,” She stated, nodding her head, “Even I don’t always do that.”

Bellamy just nodded, unsure of what he was supposed to say. 

Octavia came back about 20 minutes later with a nurse and a medicine cup containing two thick white pills. Bellamy took them one at a time, eyes glued to the TV even though he wasn’t truly watching whatever was on. All he could think about was a certain someone’s blonde hair, pale skin, and beautiful smile. 

They fell into a peaceful silence, after that. Every once in a while Abby or Octavia would get up to stretch. They’d ask if he needed anything, and wait for him to say no. Clarke’s mom played around with television channels and eventually landed on food network. Bellamy didn’t pay attention to any of it, humming absentmindedly whenever Abby asked him a question or made a comment about the show. Octavia was sitting silently, flicking through her phone with one hand while the other remained wrapped around Bellamy’s palm. Every so often she gave him a gentle squeeze, reminding him she was there. 

His eyes began fluttering shut and jerking back open, the fatigue overcoming him. It felt like he was blinking for hours, but he must have fallen asleep at some point because suddenly he was being forced awake by firm hands shaking his shoulders.

“Hey, hun, you need to wake up now, you can’t fall asleep for too long.” Abby announced, voice shaking.

Right, concussion.

He reached up to wipe the tiredness from his eyes and when he opened them again, he realized Octavia was gone. 

Bellamy turned to look at Abby, who was biting down on her cheeks and pulling at the hem of her shirt with anxious fingers. Something had changed, she didn’t look this upset or nervous before. 

“Abby, what’s going on?” He asked with a gravelly, sleepdrunk voice.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, jumping up a little bit like his sudden awareness surprised her. 

Before she could speak he had a followup inquiry, “Where’s O?” 

Abby took a deep breath, tilting her head back to halt the tears threatening to fall before lowering her gaze back to Bellamy.

“Octavia’s with Clarke.” 

Bellamy’s world froze, every moving thing around him freezing and becoming mere blurs. His heart was suddenly sonic in his ears, the pulse deafening. His mouth went dry and his legs went numb. He felt the tears welling in his eyes as Abby opened her mouth again,

“She’s allowed visitors now.”


	2. Braids & Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was bizarre and devastating to have to look at monitors and medical devices to figure out if Clarke was alive or not. He was used to only feeling alive himself when she looked at him with that big, dopey grin and those bright blue eyes, and now he was sitting here, breathing, and she would be dead if it wasn’t for a machine giving her air. It was a sick irony- the only thing he wanted to live for fighting for her life.”

Her hand froze on the doorknob, a sudden electrifying chill firing down her spine and through her arm. There was a new, paralyzing fear sweeping through her as the realization dawned on her that she was about to see one of her best friends, the love of her brother’s life, in the worst shape she’s ever seen a person. 

Octavia lowered her gaze to her shaking hand and took a deep breath before whispering to herself, “I’m not afraid.” 

With a hesitant twist of her wrist, she took a stabilizing breath and pushed the door open. 

She didn’t know exactly what she was expecting to see- but this certainly wasn’t it. 

The first thing she saw was the giant oxygen mask covering the lower half of Clarke’s face. It stretched over her mouth and nose and every few seconds made an awfully loud, almost spray like noise simultaneous with the rise and fall of her stomach. 

A blanket was draped neatly over her body all the way up to her shoulders and tucked under her armpits, leaving both of her arms exposed over the sheets. Her hair was in messy knots, spread around her head like a fiery halo. She was paler than a ghost, the skin of her cheeks practically translucent. 

As Octavia stepped closer, her eyes landed on the long line of stitches criss crossing over Clarke’s hairline and down the side of her face. The edges of the thick, black stitches were raised and puckered red. And that was only the first one she saw. The closer she got to Clarke’s face, the more she could see. Underneath the oxygen mask her jaw was sewn together all the way from the tip of her chin to right below the left corner of her lip. There were several tails of black stitches sticking out from her neckline, disappearing below the blanket where Octavia could only imagine the extent of their length and number. Her left arm was sewn shut from the bend of her elbow to her thumb, two other smaller lines stitched together on either side of that slice. 

“You’ve looked better, huh?” Octavia joked in the midst of a cry as she all but collapsed into the chair beside Clarke’s bed. 

She looked down at her hands, not quite capable of looking at Clarke’s face for an extended period of time at the moment, and continued to try to lighten the air, probably for her own sake over Clarke’s. 

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure Bell would want to get in your pants no matter what you looked like.” 

Octavia was almost disappointed when Clarke didn’t wake up and gently slap her shoulder or tell her to ‘quit it’ with a deep red blush crawling up her cheeks. She just stayed laying there, unmoving. If it wasn’t for the persistent beeping of the heart monitor to the right, Octavia would think she’s dead. 

“Let’s see if I can do something about this, huh?” Octavia brought her hands up to Clarke’s hair and gently gathered all of her blonde locks in her palm, pulling them carefully to one side.

She started smoothing through the blonde hair with her fingers, combing the knots out slowly before separating the strands into three sections and starting to braid.

“You have to pull through this, okay?” She sniffled, sliding her fingers through Clarke’s hair, “Because I’m terrified of what will happen to Bellamy if you don’t.” 

One strand over the other.

“And plus, you’d be like, the best sister in law ever.” She added with a watery laugh and sad smile, “If you could hear me right now you’d probably be telling me to shut up, that nothing is certain and you have no idea if Bellamy even wants marriage. And then I’d said that he loves you more than I’ve ever seen him love someone and that if it’s something you want, he’d do it.” 

Octavia bit down on her bottom lip, eyes trailing over Clarke’s unmoving face and fighting back the tears. That girl was typically anything but still, but right now that’s all she was. It felt wrong to see her so paralyzed. 

“He’d do anything for you.” She whispered, her hands freezing as the weight of that sentence fell over her. 

It’s all Octavia’s ever wanted for her brother- to have somebody that would love him as wholeheartedly as he would them. His entire life has been revolved around keeping her safe and content, and she didn’t want anything more than for him to be content too. More than that, she wanted him to find the kind of love that just made him sickeningly happy. Clarke was it. Octavia really, truly believed that. 

She’d only met a few of Bellamy’s past girlfriends as none of those relationships lasted extended periods of time, but they were all desperate for pda. She remembers watching him with other girls, lips constantly pecking and tongues slipping. They were purely physical relationships, and Octavia could tell how much it bothered Bellamy.

Clarke was different. 

It was written in the way Bell’s eyes stayed on her for a few seconds after she turned away, or how his face lit up when she walked into a room or told a new story. Octavia realized it truly, however, at Thanksgiving last year. She still has the clear image in her head of Clarke and Bellamy sitting on the couch in her living room, the blonde curled into Bellamy’s side. She wasn’t trying to kiss him or desperately wanting to makeout. She was simply gliding her fingers comfortingly over his arm and leaning against his shoulder with his arm wrapped around her. She was content to just be with him, and didn’t need more than that. O knew how special that was to Bell too, and she could see the deep admiration, relief, and pure love in his eyes when Clarke got up to help Octavia put dishes away. It was such a small, seemingly insignificant gesture, but it meant the world. It showed she cared. 

She’s also the first of Bellamy’s girlfriends that Octavia’s actually liked, and that was a huge deal not just for her, but for Bellamy too. Octavia could tell how much it bothered him when she didn’t approve of his girlfriends. It wasn’t enough to warrant an immediate breakup, but it definitely hindered how far a relationship of his could go. However, with Clarke, Octavia would genuinely want to be friends with her even if she wasn’t in a relationship with her brother. She’s funny, smart, strong, and beautiful. 

She’s one of the only people left in this world that are good just for the sake of being good. 

Octavia smiled a little as she thought about it, carefully starting to braid again, neatly tucking strand after strand around each other. 

“Oh, and Bellamy’s okay,” She added as she finished the last few inches of the braid, holding onto the end with one hand and pulling an elastic off of her wrist with the other, “I know with your whole selfless thing that’s what you’d care about first, right? He’s got a mild concussion and a sprained neck, but that’s pretty much the worst of it. He’s mostly just worried about you. We all are.”

She tied off the braid tightly and reached up to loosen some of the stray pieces around her face, letting the braid appear perfectly both neat and messy.

“See?” Octavia smiled softly, running her hand over the finished braid, “Much better.” 

Her smile dropped however, when her finger accidentally trailed along a rough line of stitches. It was like a harsh reality check. She let out a wavering breath and reached down to pick up Clarke’s right arm, sliding her hand down to her palm so she could lift it up. With a gentle grip, she brought Clarke’s palm up to her mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her hand. 

As she lowered it back down, she spoke again, “You’re strong as hell, Clarke. I know that. Everybody knows that. Just… fight as hard as you possibly can. If you do that, nothing else stands a damn chance.” 

“I have to go now, your mom will probably want to come back here soon,” She whispered, remorse and dread dripping from each syllable, “But I'll see you soon, okay? And the second Bellamy is able to come, he will. You can count on that. I pity anyone that tries to get between you two right now.” 

She waited a half beat, eyebrows raised like she expected Clarke to reply, shoulders falling when she didn’t budge. 

“Okay.” Octavia sighed, standing up and brushing her hand one last time over Clarke’s hair before turning for the exit. 

Right as she got to the doorway, she turned backwards, one foot out the door and a hand on the doorframe. With a soft smirk, she spoke one last time. 

“You got this, Clarke.” 

He released his grip on the left crutch and let it slot neatly in his armpit, readjusting his weight so he could reach out and pull the chair out next to her bed. He glided it along the plastic tiled floor with a chilling screech that made his head pulse before slowly easing the crutches out from under his arms and carefully lowering himself down into the chair. He let out a deep breath as he slanted the metal poles against his right armrest and leaned forward. 

He formed his mouth into a small o and let out an exasperated breath as his eyes trailed over her, now so close. He could feel the bile burning hot up the back of his throat and the even more scorching tears in his eyes as his gaze followed endless lines of stitches, hurdling over the light bruising and sickeningly pale expanse of her skin. 

With an unfamiliar hesitation, Bellamy reached up towards her face and gently placed his hand over her braid, eyes watering as his fingers slipped over the neat plait. His heart swelled as the image of Octavia sitting in this chair braiding Clarke’s hair popped into his mind. 

With a gentle hand, Bellamy brought his index finger up to her cheek and softly brushed down the side of her face and along the bottom of her jaw, “Hey, beautiful.”

His voice was choked and gravelly, every single emotion shining through with full intensity. Tears dangled on his lower lashes, and he bit down on his upper lip to keep from completely collapsing into sobs. 

“I’ve been trying to think of what to say, but…” He shook his head, turning away for a second and tilting his face up to keep at least some of the tears at bay.

He framed her face with his hand, tears silently seeping down his cheeks as he started, “I know it’s hard right now, and I’m sure it hurts like hell, but Clarke, I… I can’t lose you.”

The silence had an overwhelming presence, physically weighing down his shoulders and pulling him down with ten times the power of gravity. 

“I want you to live. I want you to live more than anything else in this world. I want you to fight like hell to stay with us… me.” He let out with a strangled breath, voice wavering on a level he didn’t think was possible, “But… sacrifice,” he stated with a deep sigh, closing his eyes slowly and fanning his thumb over her chin, caressing the skin there, “That’s what we do for the people we love.”

He looked longingly into her closed eyes and shook with cries as his voice cracked, “So I will understand if that’s not what you want.” 

“I know that it hasn’t always been easy for you. I know how much pain you’ve had to go through, and I wish with every bone in my body that I could take it all away, but I can’t. It kills me that I can’t. A little piece of my heart ripped off and never returned when I saw you cry for the first time, after Wells. And then with your dad and Finn, Lexa… So, I understand that it may be too hard for you to keep fighting.”

Bellamy’s never been very religious, but as the next few words came out of his mouth, he sent a silent prayer to whatever God was listening.

“So if you want to go, I want you to know it’s okay.” 

His hand shook against her face simultaneous with the hitches in his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

The few seconds between the next two beeps of her heart monitor were the longest seconds of his life. He didn’t want any of it- he wasn’t ok with any of it. But this is what love was, and that’s how much he loves her. Bellamy remembers his mother telling him something many moons ago, when he had his head resting on her knees while she sewed together Octavia’s stuffed bunny. They’d just had to sell their dog because their new apartment was too small and it wouldn’t be happy or safe.

When he asked why, she looked him in the eyes and told him with a calm voice, “Bell, when you love something, sometimes that means you have to set it free, even if it hurts. Because that’s what’s best.” 

It was like Bellamy was waiting for the steady beeps echoing throughout the room to bottom out, his heart aching in his chest with the emotional weight of the past few days. He’d given her permission to go, and now that’s all that's left. 

Maybe it was stupid to think she’d make that decision immediately. Maybe she didn’t hear him at all. But still… as the monitor kept beeping, and the ventilator kept pushing air in and out of her lungs, Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope and pride blossom deep within his body. She wasn’t quitting. Not now. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He smirked with watery eyes, pride lacing every crack in his voice. 

He took the hand that wasn’t holding her face and reached up to take her hand in his. Her hand was pale and limp, but nonetheless provided Bellamy with a tether to her warmth. He ran his fingers softly over her palm, thumb coming up to brush over her knuckles gently, soothingly. 

He squeezed it tightly as he whispered, “I love you so much.”

His stomach dropped when his watch lit up beside her face, the blue screen highlighting the dark black zeroes pulsing in alert that his timer just ran out. He swallowed thickly and looked briefly over his shoulder to see if anyone was looking before letting go of her hand and bringing his hand to the off button. He snoozed the alarm with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, they’re gonna have to drag me out of here before I leave.” He whispered to Clarke, returning his hand to hers and intertwining their fingers.

He fell into an uneasy silence, Bellamy’s eyes restlessly switching between Clarke’s face, heart monitor, and chest. It was bizarre and devastating to have to look at monitors and medical devices to figure out if Clarke was alive or not. He was used to only feeling alive himself when she looked at him with that big, dopey grin and those bright blue eyes, and now he was sitting here, breathing, and she would be dead if it wasn’t for a machine giving her air. It was a sick irony- the only thing he wanted to live for fighting for her life. 

He would give anything to see those damn eyes again.

A knock on the door made him jump inches into the air, hand slipping out of Clarke’s and making him suddenly feel freezing cold. He jerked around to eye whoever was entering the room and visibly relaxed when his gaze landed on a tall, older man with a long white doctor’s coat and a clipboard clinging under his armpit. 

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He greeted as he stepped into the room and made his way to the opposite side of Clarke’s bed, a small smile resting on his lips.

Bellamy just nodded, his eyes following the doctor as he moved.

“I’m Doctor Wallace, and I assume you’re Bellamy Blake.” 

Despite the confusion filling his body, Bellamy took the doctor’s hand when he reached out and shook it firmly. His eyebrows furrowed as he started, “Uh, yeah. How’d you-”

“You were the passenger in the crash, correct?” He asked and continued once Bellamy nodded his affirmation, “I could tell by the bandages and the ankle.”

“Right.” Bellamy mumbled and looked down in embarrassment, because of course he could tell. His head was literally wrapped in gauze and there was a pair of crutches standing right next to him.

Wallace smiled softly and slid the clipboard down from under his arm and into his hands, pulling a pen from his pocket and writing something across the top of whatever paper he was looking at, “You’ve got yourself a hell of a fighter here, Mr.Blake.” 

The doctor looked from the paper to Clarke, a look of something akin to awe on his face.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

The man smiled back at him, raising his eyebrows as he lowered the clipboard to a small table by the head of Clarke’s bed and pulled a penlight out of his pocket. With a gentle, calloused hand, the doctor peeled back one of Clarke’s eyelids and shined the light in her eye, guiding the ray back and forth. Bellamy watched intently as her pupils contracted in the light, not quite sure of what it meant.

“Her pupils are responsive to light,” Wallace hummed, doing the same to her other eye, “That’s a good sign.”

He moved on to her wrist, holding it between his fingers, “Pulse is getting stronger.”

Bellamy’s heart rate was picking up with every passing second. He was just waiting for the moment the doctor found something that didn’t look good. But, he just continued doing little physical tests and assuring Bellamy of their normalcy. He was starting to hope that maybe she was in the clear. 

It wasn’t until Wallace reached the pulse oximeter on her fingertip that his smile dropped. 

“I would have liked to see her oxygen levels quite a bit higher by now, but the low numbers could be an effect of a couple different things. It’s not tremendously worrisome yet, so for now I’m just going to keep an eye on it. Unfortunately that does mean she has to stay on the ventilator for a bit longer than I’d hoped for, but if the upward trajectory continues, I expect she’ll be able to breathe on her own in a few days.”

“Okay,” Bellamy nodded, reaching up to take Clarke’s hand in his again, “That all sounds good, right? She’s gonna be okay?”

Doctor Wallace ignored Bellamy’s question, or just didn’t hear him, because he just looked back towards Clarke’s face, reaching up to the top of the blanket resting over her chest. With a steady hand, he peeled the sheet down off of her torso to reveal the puzzle of bandages and stitches covering every inch of her chest and stomach. Bellamy’s breath caught in his throat and he felt the tears returning to his eyes, burning over his dry irises. He couldn’t formulate words, instead just letting out a chain of fractured breaths. 

The older man started moving around the bandages, checking the wounds underneath for what felt like hours. The giant gash from under her right armpit all the way to her heart made Bellamy nauseous. That one cut had to be responsible for over half the stitches she’d had put into her body. 

“Stitches look clean. There’s a fair amount of bruising around her lungs, you can see here,” The doctor lifted the bandage around Clarke’s ribs so Bellamy could see the ghoulish purple skin covering her chest, “Depsite how it looks, that’s actually a sign of healing. However, breathing is going to be quite painful for her for a while.”

He gently placed the bandages back down and pulled the blanket back up, “There doesn't appear to be any signs of infection, which would be my biggest concern in the circumstances, so I’m fairly optimistic that her condition will continue to improve. Nothing is certain of course, and her injuries are extensive, but I feel confident that she is on the right trajectory.” 

Bellamy felt a single tear carve its way down his cheek.

“When will she wake up?” 

Doctor Wallace was replying in record time, apparently anticipating the question, “Because the ventilator can be very uncomfortable, we typically want to wait to wake a patient up until after it’s removed. As long as her oxygen levels continue to rise, I’d predict sometime within the next two days.” 

Bellamy nodded with crinkling eyebrows. He bit down on his bottom lip as the emotional weight of it fell over him. Just minutes ago he was practically saying goodbye to the love of his life and now she was on ‘the right trajectory’ and waking up in a few days. 

“Wow.” He croaked, eyes wide.

The doctor looked between the two of them with bright eyes, before backing away and heading to the door.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” He whispered before exiting.

Bellamy smiled as the tears fell down his cheeks, “Hear that, Clarke?”

“You’re gonna be just fine.”


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this story, hugs and kisses to you all xoxoxox

Punctual as always, Clarke wakes up exactly two days later. 

She was out of the ICU, moved into a bigger room with a big window and white tiled floors. The ventilator was removed a few hours before and they decreased her medication enough to bring her slowly back to consciousness. 

She woke up with Abby and Bellamy’s worried and excited faces hanging directly above her face. At first she felt panic, and struggled against her body’s efforts to breathe. Her entire chest ached and stung upon every inhale, and it took a few minutes before the dizziness wore off and she could really focus on the people before her.

“There she is.” Bellamy smiled that big, dopey smile that showed off all of his teeth and made his eyes shine bright and full. 

Clarke wanted to smile back, but as she tried to move, a violent cough rifled through her body. She shook roughly and whimpered as the exaggerated exhale juggled her ribs and made her chest erupt in white hot pain. She tossed to the side as she wheezed, trying desperately to catch her breath through the agony. Every breath she took made it worse, and she had to make a fully conscious effort to calm herself down. She could barely feel the two pairs of hands on her arms, trying to hold her steady. 

“You’re okay, I got you.” She heard Bellamy’s voice through the fog, and just barely registered that his face was suddenly at eye level.

She shifted her gaze to meet his, and felt herself calm down immediately as they connected. 

“I know it hurts,” His voice shook but his eyes were steady as an anchor, pulling her to him and keeping her safe, “I’m so sorry I can’t fix it.” 

Only with him pulling her back into focus did she start realizing that there were tears pouring down her face and her head was pulsing. Her torso hurt beyond just her lungs, and as she came back, Clarke peered down and took in the sight of her frankenstein chest. 

“Oh God…” She whimpered, voice deeper than normal and quite unfamiliar.

She felt female hands on her bicep, gently but firmly pulling her body backwards so that’d she’d be lying on her back. 

“Sorry, honey,” Abby whispered, reaching up with a hand to wipe some of the hair away from Clarke’s face and behind her ear, “Being on your back is better for your breathing.” 

Clarke nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, little wrinkles appearing by her eyebrows and nose. The stretch of being splayed out on her back was putting an uncomfortable pressure on every part of her weak body, and she grimaced as she settled against the bed.

“Here,” Bellamy whispered sweetly, and suddenly his right hand was disappearing next to her bed and she was slowly being propped up so her upper half was in a half seated position.

Almost immediately most of the pressure was released from her body. She laughed a little, wincing at the way it hurt before turning to Bellamy amazed. He always knew what she needed, sometimes even before she did. 

“That’s perfect.” She whispered, a soft smile on her lips.

She couldn’t quite tell if what came out of his mouth was a laugh or cry, but either way it made her heart beam. 

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at him, eyes gliding from the cut on his head to the brace around his ankle. She slowly brought a weak hand up to his face and trailed two frail fingers over the slice on his hairline, whispering with genuine concern, “Are you okay?” 

Bellamy did laugh this time, but there were tears dangling on his eyelids. He reached up to his face and grabbed her hand in his, squeezing her palm. 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

After everything, she’s asking him if he’s okay. Him?!

“Bellamy.” She pressed, eyes boring into his. 

He shook his head in amusement before answering, “I’m okay,” but as she stared at him, very much alive, he decided that was an understatement, “Fantastic, actually.” 

Clarke raised her eyebrows, her skin still far too pale for Bellamy’s liking, “Fantastic, huh?”

Her voice was teasing and it warmed Bellamy’s heart. Not until now did he truly believe this was all going to be okay. This could be put behind them and they could move on. 

“We’re both here, aren’t we?” He shrugged, eyes lost in hers, “As long as that’s the case, yeah, Clarke, I’m pretty freaking fantastic.” 

He expected a laugh or a gentle slap to his chest, but instead her smile fell completely. There weren’t words to describe the look that painted over her face as she looked him deep in the eyes and spoke in an unwavering, completely awestruck voice. 

“I love you.” 

He wanted to kiss her with every bone in his body. He wanted to feel her lips against his, reassuring him that she’s alive and they’re going to be okay. But Abby was still sitting next to Clarke on the other side, and Bellamy was a respectful guy… mostly. 

So instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to her forehead, bringing one hand up to swipe the sweat from her face. She closed her eyes to relish in the feeling, squeezing his hand tightly and pulling their joined hands closer to her body.

As he gently pulled his lips away from her forehead and shifted back to his seat again, he whispered so only she could hear, 

“I love you too, my princess.”


End file.
